


Pure White

by GG_Ladybug



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrien Agreste Needs Help, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Identity Reveal, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Needs a Hug, Aftermath, Akumatized Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Akumatized Main Character(s), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, But he doesn’t really care, Character Death, Episode: s03 Chat Blanc, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth Has Feelings, Gen, Good Parent Gabriel Agreste, Gun Laws Mentioned, Gun Violence, Hurt Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Justice, Major Character Injury, One Shot, Revenge, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GG_Ladybug/pseuds/GG_Ladybug
Summary: When he akumatized Chat Noir into his Blanc counterpart, he expected many things to happen in the aftermath. Maybe stricter measures the heroes take to protect themselves emotionally. None of these possibilities ended up being shooting a crowd of murderers in his front yard however...OrIn which Gabriel akumatizes Chat Noir, the city unexpectedly turns against him and he has some pretty hard regrets by the end of it all[Set after The New York Special]
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth & Nathalie Sancoeur
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794553
Comments: 14
Kudos: 114
Collections: Bad Things Happen





	Pure White

When Chat Noir is akuamtized, it was pretty much destined to not go down well. At all for that matter. Bunnyx probably would’ve have a field day explaining all the other possibilities and how this was one of the least destructive paths, but as far as he was concerned, this was pretty bad none the less. He doesn't want to get into it further then necessary. The end results making their defences weaker turned out to be not worth. The guilt after the fact was consuming. Chat's lady always saved the day in the end. Even without a partner to help. Or any possible partner for that matter, since they'd all been killed or incapacitated.

The White Plague. That's one of the nicknames going around. Unoriginal really. Everyone in Paris had lost someone to Chat Blanc's rampage. That or themselves. Remembering it spelled disaster. He can truly say he hadn't expected it. He hadn't. Let alone planned it.

The entire city despised Chat Noir with a burning passion. It was as though they'd completely discarded the situation for what it was. Chad _Blanc_ had killed, not Chat _Noir_. _Blanc_ , but they were treating him all the same, and it infuriated him.

There were mobs, justice groups, petitions. Name it and there was a movement out there for it. Movements specifically against the hero. They hunted for him constantly, and the boy had narrowly avoided beatings from the people chasing after him on several occasions during patrols. It was almost ironic that the public was making the _villain_ sick with disgust.

He was a _child_. Barely Adrien's age, and they were hunting him for being akumatized. If they were going for people like that, then half the city should be six feet under right about now. They had their own crimes, but they're all too much of hypocrites to admit that. Syren drowned people, Stoneheart crushed thousands by throwing cars and crushing buildings, Dark Cupid was bound to have lead to a few rage fueled murders, The Bubbler launched people into the atmosphere for an hour with enough oxygen for only a few minutes at best and Beffana had actively turned people into coal.

For kwami's sake, his own akuma form had turned people into drawings. Why weren't they coming after him? What made the boy so different? He was a minor. One of many to be akumatized because he was human. Humans had emotions. Even if they didn’t like to admit it, they all did. It was a matter of time before they got too much to handle. He didn't spot a butterfly _one_ time, and was now being hailed some sort of evil unforgivable malicious being.

They didn't care about their own misdeeds. Why was their excuse always that he was a hero? _‘He was a hero we put our trust in yada yada.’_ He's a _child_. What could they _expect_!?! They'd been warned over and over again about this becoming a possibility. They'd said that things could go wrong one day and everyone had nodded and smiled along. Did they just ignore it? Did they believe it to be some type of false prophet?

If anything, it was one of the better outcomes of Chat Noir's possession. The heroes had maintained both miraculous by the end of it. Hawkmoth was no closer to victory, but the city made it seem as though the boy that had given his life on many occasions to akumas was the true bad guy of the story right now.

His half of heroic monuments were either torn down or allowed as vandals free reign. Officers turned blind eyes to crowds defacing anything with Chat's face or name on it. The mayor had expressed his allowance of civil action by heavily implying that he'd lightened police presence in the 7th and 16th arrondissement since that was where the cat hero frequented.

He wondered if the boy was high class. Why else would he be in the richest area of Paris most his time. People were specifically trying to track the boy's residence down so they could unmask him and carry on their sick sense of justice in civilian form.

It made him even more sick to think about. That he might of shook the boy's hand at an event in the past. The very hands that were now being painted as covered in blood. He didn't see the big deal either. Everything was always reversed. So no one was permanently dead. It was morbidly ironic that the people urging for action were the very ones to create akuma protection laws. 

**_'No person akumatized is responsible for ones actions committed under Hawkmoth's power and emotional coercion.'_** Why were they ignoring that now? Cowards. All of them. He'd personally see to it that they suffer life in jail too if those petitions for criminal charges to be dropped on the boy actually became successful.

If anyone asked, he was up all night designing. Definitely not extensively watching akuma battles and comparing it to his memory so he could calculate the total casualties for each person should they ever try to do said action.

To his knowledge, he'd only found four supporters of Chat Noir in the whole of Paris that weren't heroes. _Four_. Four out of two million. Him, Nathalie, Adrien and the girl with pigtails that won the competition in Adrien's class.

When they'd first broached the subject at home, Adrien looked terrified. He was asking him to look over a project before he turned it in so he got a good grade, and the television was playing just a little too loudly in the room over. His son had clearly expected him to express his discontent for the hero like the rest of those blubbering idiots. Not scoff harder then he ever had in his life.

"Villain Noir. Seriously? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous." It was an annoyed mutter as he read through the physics assignment. As much as he hated to sound like Audrey, he didn't say a word of a lie. "You support Chat? I-I thought it was just me and Marinette aside from Ladybug of course." Adrien squeaked out as though as he'd been single handedly told the best thing in the world. Then again, still liking a hero while everyone else he knew talked bad about them made you excited to learn someone shared the same opinion finally.

"Of course. Both Nathalie and I do. By their logic, I should be just as guilty as him because of the people I turned to drawings as The Collector. It's idiotic to think he's anything other then a hero. He was controlled." He answered at a deadpan, tone pushing that he thought it was the most obvious thing in the world and would not be swayed.

"Didn't uh... didn't Chat Blanc kill you two though? He was reigning around this bit a lot so I thought maybe..." He asked nervously, half expecting him to change opinions on the spot. He was killed. Granted it wasn't exactly in civilian form, but yes he had. He'd been relatively fine with it as well since Ladybug was close to winning. She always restored everything.

"So?" He answered evenly, easing an eyebrow and he underlined a few spelling mistakes as though this conversation had no effect on him. Adrien had looked so close to crying from happiness that day now he thought about it.

Chat Noir himself was clearly taking notes on just who he could turn to. He knew this only because he'd spotted the hero perched outside the manor on a few occasions with a small smile as he looked towards the residence. If he knew who the basket of supplies were from, he never mentioned it or indicated so. Emergency first aid supplies if he was attacked while out, a hand made hoodie to conceal himself better while patrolling and snacks. He'd embroidered a black butterfly out of second nature to the hoodie, so he most definitely knew who it was from.

Ladybug was trying to shut the public up by beinging up their hypocrisy. She wanted to protect her partner, but she could only do so much against a whole city of irrational conclusion jumpers. It had been risky what he'd done next, but he didn't care. He'd seen the two running away from a mob, and had transformed to follow.

When they finally found a safe spot, he'd dropped the bag of what Nooroo had told him were the two kwami's favourite recharging foods. The two were startled by the supplies suddenly dropped in front of them, but he'd hidden himself behind a chimney before they could spin around and spot him.

The purple Hawkmoth symbol he'd drawn on the front said enough on who it was from. They were his nemesis, but then again, he needed said nemesis alive for them to continue fulfilling that role. It was a silent confirmation that he'd lay of the akuma until they got their own affairs in order and knocked some sense into those living in Paris.

As far as the public were concerned, if Chat's on private property, they were going to take the trespassing laws in stride and take the opportunity to attack the boy. Even when he's on the streets, that tactless spineless disgrace of a mayor gave permission for anyone to take any measures to teach him sort sort of lesson. Since Chat has no proof he's a minor past revealing his identity, he couldn’t even protest these as illegal via child abuse.

With those stupid rules, Chat Noir could be beaten to death in the streets at any point. The repercussions come to late when he detransforms after death into his usual teenage self. He had ranted to Adrien about that actually. Rather loudly for that matter because that loop hole the mayor had found was pissing him off.

"It's delusional! _Not a minor_ , what idiots! He looks _your_ age! Maybe _younger_! What if that was _you_ out there? People wouldn't know until they've just about _bashed your brains in_! What would they do then? They'd probably _still_ try and defend their actions even if it came out he was a minor. They're insane like that. That boy has _family_ , who the hell is going to tell them some _mob_ has just slaughter their kid? What about his parents if he still has them? They’re probably _also_ against him, now we talk about it! What if _they’re_ the ones that kill him?"

It had been a lengthy one sided fume, and Gabriel knew it was just because he was a father. He had a son. He could put himself in shoes and view what was before him rationally. Whatever he was saying had amused Adrien’s slightly, because he had this small smile and glassy eyes. He didn’t comment on it though.

Any person with basic human decency would know these laws were perverse and corrupt. The bar was one the FLOOR and Hawkmoth of all people was one of few people that could manage stepping over it. It was like they were purposely digging under the damn thing at any available moment. Were they aiming for a world record of possible scumbag actions?

Other countries were taking notice of the travesty, and yet no one was saying a damn thing. They were silently supporting it even. The only ones that had put up a resistance in the first place were the main heroes of New York. They’d raising their doubts about Chat being bad, but still ended up collapsing into everyone else's mind set anyways.

Perhaps it was what was left from the short conflict they'd had when Chat accidentally ran into Uncanny Valley with cataclysm. Majestica and Knight Owl had children themselves. He would've thought they could've at least seen some semblance of sense, but apparently everyone lacked a brain cell or two these days. 

This was coming from the man that had akuamtized a baby accidentally and rolled with it because his pride was too hurt to admit the mistake. The man that celebrated too soon. The man that probably could've won if he had thought things through harder. If he was saying this, then how brainless could they possibly be?

The bar wasn't on the floor anymore. That _S.O.B_ was in the _negatives_ and yet they were all _still_ incapable of clearing it. Adrien had told him that some kids in class would skip to the day to join a mob or campaign against Chat Noir. Hooligans jumping on a bandwagon was to be expected in his generation. Expected and then punished accordingly, but his teacher was _encouraging_ it. Saying it was something to be proud of, leading the ' _fight_ ' against ' _evil_ ' at their age was something _awardable_ in her eyes.

It was no _fight_. This was cold blooded discrimination. Gods above, he was **_this_** close to pulling Adrien out that wretched place once and for all. That would be lovely to write under the reason line when he did the paperwork to pull Adrien out the roster. _'Ah yes, continuing homeschooling I'm afraid. Oh what put me off? Just you applauding students to commit crimes against minors rather then go to their daily educations.'_ He could only imagine how well that would go down.

He was _Hawkmoth_. _He_ was supposed to be the bad guy. _He_ was supposed to be the one with questionable morals and lack of decency. So why the _hell_ did everyone seem hellbent on making him so much better compared to them all?

He'd _akumatized_ people. He'd broken _laws_. He'd commuted several accounts of _domestic terrorism_ that would make even the greatest of terror cells cry with jealousy. He'd even proven he could start _World War III_ at any time he pleased for Christ's sake! Yet no one ever made a side by side. No one ever said that surely the hero was better then the supervillain. Chat had been automatically made worse.

It was inevitable someone would want to pick up his stance on things. No one had really questioned it at first. They all assumed that because he'd been another victim, he'd follow their ideas. It took a conference call being streamed online for them to realise.

"And on a final note, what are we going to do for the upcoming fundraiser to convince the police to arrest Chat Noir?" His stylus had stopped mid stroke as the countless executives made pledges to donate millions, and he glared. The most terrifying death glare he'd ever given. So this was why it was streamed. Publicity.

Someone finally noticed the look he was giving his tablet. "You look like we've just killed your cat, Gabrikins." Audrey commented dryly. There was a chorus of laughter at the joke against the hero, and it didn't take long to notice he wasn't laughing with them. "I'm not giving a thing to your little witch hunt." He snapped, pressing down harder with his pen and marking down an angry splash of red in the design he'd been making to ignore the group.

"No now Gabriel, I know it may seem like it won't work or it's a waste of time-"

"Fucking _good_."

There was a few gasps before utter silence. That was understandable to an extent. He hadn't sworn since his university days, and even then, it had never been in public, but this was really starting to rub him the wrong way. "You're saying you want the movement to fail?" Audrey echoed in honest confusion.

"You tell me." He growled. More silence before realisation. "You were killed by him and you want to protect Chat Noir?" One of his male associates blanched in disbelief. "Yes, Paul. So if you could refrain from talking about unjustly imprisoning a minor for actions he could not control, I'd vastly appreciate it." He answered evenly.

The chat they'd set up for people to discuss was blowing up now in confusion. He even spotted a few people saying that maybe he was ‘under the effects of an akuma’ or had been ‘brainwashed by Chat Noir’ at some point. He interrupted them before they could continuing talking.

"Unless you fancy going to prison too, _Style Queen_ , I suggest you take a similar stand point. You killed _lots_ of people. My son included by that matter. I'd be more than happy to testify after I'm locked up for my own murders as _The Collector_." He added sarcastically.

She made a spluttering noise. "How _dare_ you say such a thing?!? Those don't _count_ , we were _akumatized_!" She shouted in disbelief before trailing off at how stupid she was making their cause sound. "No no, Audrey. If _he's_ to blame for his actions as _Chat Blanc_ then we _all_ are, and I don't know about you, but personally I'm not _overly_ fond of being blamed for my wrong doings." He continued, taking the opportunity he'd been given.

"But-but- he killed over half of Paris!" One of the investors stuttered. Gabriel raised an eyebrow in disbelief at the feeble excuse. "So? According to the Ladyblog, there's a promising swimming student by the name of Ondine. The boy she liked was oblivious to her attempted advances, and she was akumatized by Hawkmoth. This turned her into the mermaid villain Syren." He explained.

"Now if you're going to bring numbers into the equation, she killed most of Paris, if not all aside from a handfuls of survivors that had found high enough ground in time or managed to not tire out swimming. People sleeping or in homes? Dead. Drivers? Dead the second her water impacted their cars or trapped in them to the point of drowning. People bellow ground level? They didn’t even stand a chance." There was no indication they were going to protest. They just looked thoughtful.

"A Public Healthy study in 2016 found that one in seven adults in France don't know how to swim. Right off the bat, that's 314,286 people. 1 in 3 under 18's don't know how to swim. With an average percentage of 24%, that's 528,000 minors, or a further 176,000 that would've drowned at the first few feet of water. Tsunamis are the most deadly sub-type of earthquake, and close to the results of Syren's tears. They average 79 deaths for every 1,000 people affected. Take the population of France and take away the precursor death count. There's about 1886 thousands in it. Times that by 79 and you get another 148,994 deaths. That's assuming you get the five minute warning you usually get for water disasters. Paris had none." They knew he wasn't finished, and they still hadn't said a word.

"Aceh was among the areas hardest hit by the tsunami resulting from the Boxing Day tsunami of 2004. While estimates vary, over 170,000 people were killed in that area. Since they had no warning, it's relatively easy to get a guess number from that. The population of Aceh before the December 2004 tsunami was 4,271,000. To add on the surprise factor that would've taken lives, we half the number killed for that population size to match Paris'. That's another 85,000 people." Gabriel was on a roll now, and Nathalie was watching him now from her desk as she did similar math in her head.

"We have to be realistic, so we'll estimate 10 thousand killed from the result of panic in large crowded areas. Crushed. Pushed. That kind of thing. Almost everyone is familiar with the fight or flight here. The reaction to a stimulus perceived as an imminent threat to your survival. However, less well known is the freeze response, which adds a crucial dimension to how you're likely to react when the situation confronting you overwhelms your coping capacities and leaves you, theoretically, paralysed in fear." Adrien had walked in at some point. He must of been watching it himself before or was sent it by a friend. Now choosing to watch it unravel with his own eyes.

"We'll assume 100,000 thousand people didn't process it quick enough to get to cover in time for the initial impact, leading to their deaths. Then, there wasn't enough space or tall buildings to save everyone that made it to the point of seeking safety. I reviewed some footage the blogger made from atop her area. There was only a handful of their group, and on the buildings around them, an equally sparse amount. A few would've managed to grab onto something. So we'll be nice and say 75% of what was left drowned anyways since they either didn't get there on time or was blocked in some way." He took a deep breathe, ready to finalise his point.

"With the initial calculations, Syren killed 834, 280 people near instantly. That's 1,365,720 people remaining with simply the ability to survive. Then we take the 75 percent killed from lack of time or chance to get to safety and tiring out from swimming for an hour straight. Leaving us with, and this is a generous estimation because believe me I've left out a lot of things and possibilities, 314,430 survivors. Exactly 14.29227272727273 percent of Paris lived in that attack. Far more than Chat Blanc's total. Trust me. I did the math and read your surveys." The silence isn't silence anymore. It's deafening.

"How can you hold one accountable, but not another?" It was low and left no room for argument. "So no. I don't support your ideology. You do whatever you want, but you all best leave me out of it, because I've added up all of your estimated counts and believe me... it doesn't look good." He threatened, eyes narrowed.

In the end, his little speech caused some change rather then none. The side they'd formed that was hellbent on making Chat pay for his actions had fractured into two. There was a second, more 'pacifist' side, that still hated him. However they realised that if he was to be accountable, they all would be for their own akumatizations.

Of course, this didn't mean they refused to join mobs and hunting groups to find the boy and deliver mayor sanctioned street justice. They just refused to take it to the courts since that would make them criminals too. Selfish. The lot of them.

Eventually, the Anti-Guilt began to outweigh the Pro-Guilt as the logistics were brought into the mix. At least the boy wouldn't have to worry about being arrested any time soon. Small mercies in a city where mobs were apparently the new normal.

He was a kid. Probably a very scared kid. Who wouldn't when you were being hunted down on a daily basis and constantly bad mouthed about when in civilian form? At this point, the only safe spaces the boy had was the roofs across from the Agreste house. He'd been clear with his security entourage to keep the unruly mobs and search parties away to supposedly prevent property damage.

Every time Chat stumbled down onto one after a long night so he could catch his breath before continuing his patrol, it made paying for double the usual amount of guards worth it. He was more shocked the boy didn't just give up nightly patrols all together. It was more of a danger to him now then ever before, but he seemed absolute on continuing to protect the very city coming for him.

A matter of time. That's what it came down to these days. Just a matter of time. So when the mobs finally get a hold on Chat Noir, and Ladybug couldn't be there because she'd already swung of home after bidding adieu from patrol, it only made sense he'd run towards the one place they couldn't touch. They’d spotted him trying to go home himself and saw it as the perfect opportunity to try and get a few hits in.

All of this was why fate had led him here. To this very point. Noticing the leather clad figure jumping over houses as he tried to reach the walls of the Agreste Manor. He hadn't even gotten the time to order Nathalie to open the gate since it was already done. How the cat knew the security override code wasn't something he was going to question.

The guards clearly couldn't hold the overwhelming numbers back since they were all right on the heroes tail. He had opened the door to let the teenager in or order away the group, but was instead greeted by the sight of one of the people behind Chat Noir stabbing out with their pitchfork as though this was some Disney movie where they hunted down the beast.

Apparently, if their shocked silence meant anything, even they hadn't expected the sharp metal to actually do its intended job. The three prongs pierced through the black suit and out the other side from the sheer force they'd charged with. He stares in horror for a moment.

They’d gone and stabbed him. _Actually_ stabbed him. With a _pitchfork_. Through the _chest_. This wasn’t some _roughing_ up gone wrong. Nooroo had told him the cat kwami had lost owners before from people beating them up to much after misunderstandings, but _this_? This wasn’t beaten to death.

They’d _stabbed_ him!

Then, there’s a king shrill beep being emitted from the child’s miraculous. Not like the beeping it usually did when they were out of minutes for their kwami’s. It sounded... could a ring sound afraid? If it could, it certainly was as there was a flash of green light. Suddenly it’s not Chat Noir stood staring at the holes in his chest, but Adrien.

Adrien

_Adrien_

**_Adrien_**

People screamed out in horror, as though they seriously expected the hero to be an adult. That they hadn’t just good as killed a child. A _child_. His _son_ who had been playing soldier. His _son_ who has been playing martyr. These people just stabbed his son. _THEY STABBED HIS SON!_

Gabriel's never been so glad he had a license for a gun in his whole life. When Emilie had first suggested he own a handgun incase the manor was robbed, he'd thought the whole process took far too long. There was so many tests and paperwork just to get the green light to own a weapon in the first place. Permits, insurance, practical exam results it was a very annoying system but one he understood none the less.

They'd given it to him because his status warranted such precautions, and right now there was an angry mob in his private front yard that had just stabbed his son. Nathalie, bless her soul, had already sprinted back from his safe and put the handgun in his waistband as they stood in the archway before he'd even ran forward. He didn't care less that he'd never fired a gun in his life past mere paper targets. This was well within his right.

Pulling it out from the back of his belt, he raised it with a panicked look at all the strangers who's one purpose in life as of late was to hurt Chat Noir. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Even as Hawkmoth his goal has always been to just get the miraculous and reverse the akumas effects before making his wish. These people- these monsters had done what he’d never done as a villain.

They’d stabbed Chat Noir

He had never unsheathed the blade in his cane when fighting the two. Not in his life. He’d only ever used the sword once when Robustus had activated the security system in his lair. He’d never used lethal methods. Why would he? They were children. Children don’t deserve to be killed. Ladybug didn’t deserve to be killed no matter who she was as a civilian. Chat Noir didn’t deserve it either.

Chat Noir, his son

His son who was currently collapsing to the ground as red trickled below him with a worried cry of his kwami. The group looked up as though finally noticing someone else was in front of them all. He didn’t care about their fear struck gazes as they stared down the barrel of his weapon from a few meters away.

They all knew their situation. A registered self defence gun holder faced with people on their property after crossing the gate line without consent. By all means, they were already technically breaking in, but they’d made it worse for themselves. They’d stabbed his son. They’d all become accessories. One a full blown murderer.

_They’d stabbed his son. Theyd stabbed his son. They’d stabbed his son-_

He only hesitated a few seconds. This was more than enough warning to the crowd to back off and call an ambulance. Gabriel Agreste was a forward man, and if you put a gun in his hands, you damn well better follow instructions because he would take a human life if he so wanted. But then someone took the first step forward. He didn’t care if they were apologising or about to express their mistake. He didn’t care.

he simply didn’t care

They were holding the bloodied pitchfork. They were the one that did it. _They_ were the one that hurt his _son_. Not Chat Noir. His son. His son that had pledged to save Paris no matter the cost, and they’d _betrayed_ him. They’d all _betrayed_ him. He just wanted to help and he’d been upset for one fleeting moment. They should’ve been there with open arms. He was counting on it after the fact even. They should’ve done anything but this.

They’d stabbed him in the back

_**Literally** _

Traitors

The man had taken that step forward. A step forward without warning and Gabriel wasn’t willing to bet they weren’t about to finish the job. Self defence laws were on his side, so he had no more reason to wait. He aimed. He fired.

And he felt nothing but _pure **white**_ rage while doing so...


End file.
